Here’s to Originality.

“This sounds too good. Must be AI.”
Ah yes. The highest ‘compliment’ you can give a writer in 2025.

Spends 3 hours obsessing over a synonym.
Rewrites one line 17 times.
Gets hit by a random poetic metaphor while doing home chores.
Bleeds voice into the keyboard.
Crafts it. Rewrites it.
Deletes half of it.
Writes again.

And then someone comments:
“ChatGPT?”

That’s what original writers get now.
Not “great post.” Not “loved this.”
Original thought? Suspect.
Emotional nuance? Suspicious.
A post that flows well and makes sense? Definitely AI.

Meanwhile, ghostwriters?
They used to be mysterious.

Now they’re just GenAI with a birth certificate.

We used to chase polish.
Now we chase proof.

Want proof it’s not AI?
Look for the one extra word I couldn’t delete.
The sentence I didn’t need, but emotionally needed.
And the slight passive-aggressive undertone?
That’s all me.

Honestly, the real test should be: Is there a typo?
A rambling sentence that loops back unnecessarily?
A paragraph that sounds like it was written at 2 AM, lying on the bed watching a series.

That’s the mark of a real person.

So here’s to the humans.
Still writing. Still thinking. Still obsessing over how to say it “just right.”

But you know what?
There’s no algorithm for nostalgia.
No prompt for what it smells like after rain.
No thesaurus for your kind words, appreciation and motivation.
No autocomplete for silence, or warmth, or roots.

So now, I stepped away.
Back to the soil, the slowness, the sound of nothing refreshing.

My writing may not be perfect, but it’s mine.

P.S. If this sounded human, messy, and slightly passive-aggressive…That’s how you know it’s me.

Wine

source: https://bit.ly/2DcTOl6

She had done this before once

But she then decided never to.

But again, today

There she sat

Tired of life, of death, of misery and of mess

Trying to fight with herself

To convince herself

That this is not leading anywhere

That this may harm her

Its not going to make things easy

Yet she didn’t have the courage

To stand up and leave and slam the door behind

Saying sorry, I cant do that.

But, she kept staring,

Looking at how beautiful it remains

How much more attractive than the last time she saw

How much more irresistible

How much her heart was thumping,

Scared to touch and feel

But her patience broke down

She moved her hand,

With the lucky charm bracelets tinkling,

Got closer,

Extended her fingers with the platinum ring,

Held,

Pulled closer,

Closer to her mouth,

With those blood red lips,

She drank all the wine in one go.

And the wine defeated her in the battle

To remain clean.

Unique Respect

Sitting at the mountains,
She fights with mind and soul.
Forgive, says the soul.
Don’t, says the mind.
Forget says the soul.
Never, says the mind.
After long months of misery,
Today,
She is successful,
She is mesmerizing.
People adore her.
She has money. She has power.
More than she needs.
Reputation more than she ever had.
She struggled,
She cried.
No matter how hard,
She tried. All alone.
Sitting on the heights,
Now, she is still down to earth.
Left everyone behind,
Who left her when she needed.
Yet she smiles looking back,
With no grudges,
To those who didn’t let her go high.
But she has wings today.
The higher she flies,
The more she is highlighted.
They say, Forgive and Forget.
She says,
Don’t.
Remember, you stood all alone.
Fought all alone.
And you stand all alone,
With your own powers.
Don’t forgive, don’t forget.
Ever.

Learning makes you a better human.
And Remember.
They taught you a lot.
That’s the truth, my friend.
Uniquely Respect the one’s who made you learn.

image: http://dancehipology.com/flying-girl-1-3/